New Tales Of The Three Worlds
by Kar-Vermin
Summary: The story continues.
1. Chapter 1

Greetings, all.

Those of you who have read "Campaign of the Three Worlds" know that it is based on the D&D campaign that I originally ran from 1980 to 1987, and that it was divided into three roughly equal segments, each featuring a different cast of characters.

Well, I never thought it would happen, but 28 years (real-time) after it ended, 3W returns with a fourth segment! All new characters, and all new adventures! Unlike my previous campaign adaptations, this one will be written on-the-fly, as the campaign progresses and evolves. I hope I can do it justice.

We start on my homebrewed world of Aarde. The year is 5571A, about 22 years after the events of "Campaign." Here we go- comments and critiques welcome!


	2. On The Road

**21st day of Sunfields, 5571A Evistar, Samseed Wood**

"Trying to outrun your destiny?"

Illumenatta, also known as Lumen, turned around.

Ruil Starshine, the High Priestess of The Lady of Dreams, had silently entered the Duskwind common room and was watching the younger elf.

A sly smile curled around the edges of the cleric's mouth.

"How human of you."

Illumenatta grunted as she shifted the weight of her travelling array- tent, bedroll, backpack and everything she would need on the road to Talantier, and tried to distribute it more evenly over her frame. The bard managed to smile back and looked Ruil straight in the eye.

"Here's something else human. One of their favorite sayings."

The priestess cocked her head expectantly, awaiting the punch line. Lumen didn't disappoint.

"What a crock of scat."

Ruil laughed- despite herself, it seemed to Lumen.

"It's elven nature as much as human to mock what we don't understand, I grant you that," the priestess said, still smiling. "But it doesn't change the underlying truth."

"If we're going to speak in clichés, can we at least do it in Human?" Illumenatta asked, switching to the Common tongue. "I'll need all the practice I can get."

Ruil was no longer smiling, but the older elf obliged.

"At last- an admission that in at least one regard, you're not ready to leave just yet."

"I'm much less ready to stay," Lumen replied, brushing her long, golden hair out of her face. She hadn't had time to tie it up yet. "There's no point to it. If one more wizard pushes my face into a grimoire and tells me all I need to do is _study harder,_ it's going to get unpleasant."

"You know as well as I do that no one is forcing you to study wizardry, Lumen."

"Expectations have the same force of weight as human law," Illumenatta shot back. "I'm a _child of destiny_ , remember?" she added, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Ruil's eyes fell. The softness of her face and voice returned.

"I am sorry, my child. You bear a heavy burden through no choice of your own. Sometimes even I cannot understand the will of the Daughter of The Night Skies."

"Have her send me a letter," Lumen snapped, employing another human saying. She made for the door, but stopped and turned around again after opening it.

This was wrong. She didn't want to leave Evistar like this. Lumen had already said all of her other goodbyes- even to her parents, and they had all been typical; joy mixed with sadness. Illumenatta didn't want her last one to be bitter.

The priestess was looking at Lumen again, but her green eyes held only sadness.

Illumenatta gave her a smile, and switched back to elven.

"May your moonlight guide me to a deeper understanding, Ruil."

Ruil smiled back, though Lumen could see the tears threatening.

"Bless you and your travels, Lumen."

Illumenatta nodded, turned and left the room.

* * *

 **21st day of Oforce, 5571A Rendrick, The Divided Lands**

Qidarchios Sunleaf, lost in his own thoughts, hadn't even realized that Darren had fallen behind.

He turned. The elderly human was making a valiant effort to keep up, but Dark could see the effect it was having on him. His chest was heaving, and his right hand, which clamped his quarterstaff- once a fearsome weapon, but now used for a mere walking stick- was white with exertion.

The young elven bard slowed his pace, tactfully saying nothing while his mentor caught up and steadied his breathing.

Then tact went out the window.

"A simple walk too much for you, old man?"

Darren grinned back. Even at his advanced age- advanced for a human, that is- he still had most of his teeth.

"Let the contest be singing, drinking, or common sense, and then we'll see who falls behind, ya whelp."

Qidarchios smiled back, but said nothing. As a bard, he knew when words were needed- and when they weren't.

They'd reached the outskirts of the hamlet now. Nothing but farmland stretched before them- that, and the trail that led westwards.

Both man and elf stopped.

Dark looked again at Darren. The human had his lute in his hands. It was as easy a fit as a well-worn pair of gloves.

"Guess this is it, huh?" Darren said. "Ready to hit the open road? A life of adventure, and all that rot?"

Qidarchios nodded, spotting the expression in the older bard's eyes, but not quite identifying it. Sadness? Envy? Pride?

Darren locked eyes with his star pupil.

"You'll do all right, son. Ya got the makings of greatness in ya."

"Half as much as you, and I'll be satisfied," Dark said truthfully.

"Damn it all, ya idjit," Darren scoffed. "Don't be gittin yerself killed, now. Ain't ya learned nothing 'bout exaggeration?"

Qidarchios nodded. "Enough to know there's not nearly enough of it in your tales as you'd like people to believe."

Darren seemed about to say something, struggled with the words, then shrugged and strummed his lute.

Then the old man began to sing. All his low-born accent vanished, and his rough voice, while still scratchy with long use, rang out strong and clear.

"Snow white skin, oh Lady Gold!

Bronzed warrior, of ages Old!

Wizard whose changes hint of top skills,

Priest of the North, who heals and kills.

Far away fighter, with sword so keen,

And young elven skald, with voice so lean.

These are the ones on whom we'll rely,

When the End Times come- we thrive or we die."

Darren stopped playing. He wasn't looking at Qidarchios. He stared out over the countryside, seeing something the younger bard couldn't even guess at.

"Was that something from your adventuring days?" Dark asked at last. "I haven't heard that one before."

"No," said Darren softly. "Few months ago, some wanderin' priest came through town- you were visiting Three Falls at the time. Never even heard of his god- if he even exists. Street preacher, he was- stark mad. Just took some of his ravings and set them to music." He shrugged. "Not even sure why."

Now it was Dark's turn to shrug. "As going away presents go, it wasn't bad," he said. "Saved you on coin, I noticed," he added with a smirk.

"As if there was anyone 'round here worth spending my hard-earned silver and gold on!" Darren retorted, then abruptly placed a hand on Dark's shoulder and squeezed it with a surprising strength.

"Take care, lad."

It was rare indeed for Qidarchios Sunleaf to find himself at a loss for words, but by the time he found them, the old man was already hobbling off back into town.

* * *

 **21st day of Oforce, 5571A About 30 miles south of Evistar, The Divided Lands**

The two samurai walked on in silence.

Saito Takahashi's mind was not silent- it was awhirl with thoughts and memories. Thoughts of his mission, and what the future might hold for him, and how soon it would be before he would see the bamboo forests and serene pagodas of Nippon again. And memories; of boarding the ship at Negacha City, of the endless ocean voyage, where days, weeks and months blended together in an agonizing, monotonous routine; of leaving behind Hori Takakatsu at their arrival city of Redshore; of Yanigasawa Yoichi splitting from them shortly thereafter, bound for Fargate, and of daily travels through the endless plains of these so-called "Divided Lands," a journey that was rapidly approaching the unbearability of their ocean crossing. The massive, seemingly-endless forest to their left looked intriguing, but their assigned paths would not lead them into it.

Eight days more, Takahashi thought. In eight days time, Niwa Kinnori would continue on eastward, bound for the city of Three Falls while he, Saito, would turn south and enter the city called Talantier. Then, the four samurai- warriors of _bushido_ who had journeyed halfway across Aarde into the faraway lands of the barbarian _gaijin_ \- would all be separated from each other and in all likelihood, never see each other again.

Takahashi allowed himself a measure of sorrow at this; after all, the four young men had known each other for years- long before they were each allowed the supreme honor of _genpuku_ , the ceremony that gave them the investiture of not only manhood, but the title of "samurai." He was careful not to let that sorrow turn into resentment, or even of questioning, of the orders he had received from his _daimyo_ , Suno Mitsune. Such thoughts, if ever uttered aloud in a careless moment, would serve only to dishonor Mitsune, the man to whom Saito had pledged his very existence.

A small herd of deer up ahead suddenly raised their heads as one as the west wind bought the scent of the human and the wood elf. Then they were off, bounding into the forest in a flicker of white tails.

Kinnori grunted in disapproval, his hand returning the arrow he had been slowly drawing from its quiver back into place as he lowered his bow.

"At least the deer of this accursed land seem as ours. A pity though. Fresh venison would have tasted good after this wretched, smoked version we carry with us."

Takahashi allowed himself an answering grunt. Looking at the place where the deer had entered the forest, he saw flashes of blue and purple. He tapped Kinnori on the shoulder and pointed. Blueberry bushes. The other samurai nodded his assent and the two took a quick detour to gather the fresh berries.

* * *

It was Kinnori who spoke again, as they later resumed their journey, munching on the delicious berries. When he did, Saito realized that if anything, his friend's mind had been more athought than even his.

"Yoichi dropped hints earlier- long back while we were still at sea. He stated that there might be more to our mission that was revealed to us."

Takahashi stopped dead and stared at Kinnori.

That statement was not only disturbing, but it was borderline disrespectful. Moreover, it smelled of gossip that geisha might share among themselves- not the talk of samurai. Only his long friendship and understanding of Kinnori allowed him to understand that this piece of knowledge must have been eating away at his friend.

Takahashi made the choice not to be offended. He affected a casual shrug.

"Perhaps, but what of it? We are at war, and wartime is always a time of secrets. The accursed Rolosians invaded our homeland. Vengeance is our divine right."

"And yet it took four hundred years for the Emperor and the Shogun to retaliate? Why not sooner?"

"Who can say?" Takahashi replied, trying to infuse his voice with a casualness that he no longer felt. "Such matters are not for us to dwell on," he added, ending with a warning note to his voice.

Kinnori took the hint. He nodded and resumed his silent walking.

But now Saito's mind was, if possible, even more awhirl. Yanigasawa Yashimoto, Yoichi's father, was the _shugo-daimyo_ of Negacha Province, its secular ruler. It was by his decree that each of the other samurai families of Negacha had picked one of their junior members for this mission to join Yoichi in the exploration of the other side of the world. But the old man had a well-known reputation for both craftiness and ruthlessness. Indeed, Takahashi had once heard Yoichi tell of a Yanigasawa samurai, no older than them, who had been banished from Nippon for the simple act of merely touching a sacred suit of armor.

What would it be like never to be able to return home, Takahashi wondered, and then his mouth went dry and he spat out a half-chewed blueberry as a horrid thought burst through all his self-imposed mental barriers.

Would he, Saito, ever return home? Death was always a possibility, and not one that he feared in the least, but what if there _was_ more to their mission than he had been told? What could it be? And if Yoichi had this hidden knowledge, why would he not have shared it with his three closest friends?

The two samurai locked eyes again, but neither one spoke. They continued their long walk.

* * *

 **21st day of Oforce, 5571A About 10 miles northeast of Dockalong, Samseed Wood**

Bjorn Sigmundson didn't mind the swamp.

In fact, the Werold cleric had sought it out. His sturdy leather boots, lined with polar bear fur, kept his feet dry as he slowly moved about in the marsh, searching. He had been looking for a small swampy area along the banks of the Arlos river, knowing that if he left the trails that ran throughout this portion of the Samseed Corridor, he'd eventually find one. And now, his keen eyes found precisely what he'd hoped to find.

A short, brown, dead-looking plant with wide leaves and an unpleasant aroma.

Musk muddle. With properties similar to the more common aloe vera, but far more potent, the leaves could be processed by a skilled alchemist or herbologist into a burn salve of exceptional efficiency. Bjorn had just stooped over to gather some of the leaves when he felt as much as heard the motion of the muck being disturbed by someone who wasn't him.

Instinct replaced conscious thought as the cleric of Balder hurled himself off to the right, and a greatsword cleaved through the air right where he'd been standing. Bjorn paid no mind to the mud and dirt coating him as he rolled, somewhat awkwardly, to his feet.

His would-be assassin was already pulling the sword back again into battle position. Bjorn saw, with no small amount of shock, the man's branta hide armor, the boots similar to his own, and the man's heavy fur cloak, much like the one Bjorn had discarded weeks ago, as the temperature steadily rose during his long southwards trek. This man, who towered a good six inches over Bjorn, was also Werold- which meant there was a good chance he'd been following Bjorn for over a thousand miles.

The half-formed questions in the priest's mind had to be discarded. With an inarticulate roar of rage, the killer was charging Born, his sword raised high.

Bjorn did not draw his own sword but with one fluid motion, presented his holy symbol of Balder at the rushing figure. The cleric barked out a single _command_.

"Drop!"

The man's fingers opened involuntarily, and the weapon dropped into the muck. He spared not a glance at it however, but with blinding speed pulled a dagger from his belt and hurled it at Bjorn.

The cleric barely managed to dodge out of the way, and with a _thwump,_ the weapon buried itself in the trunk of a swamp willow behind Bjorn. The priest glanced at it. A small stream of viscous green liquid was dripping down the willow's trunk from the dagger's blade.

Bjorn's eyes narrowed with understanding. _Poisoned!_

Unfortunately, even that swift glace backwards had been a tactical mistake. Bjorn felt fingers closing around his neck, and he was lifted bodily into the air and slammed backwards against the tree. Stars burst into his vision as his head slammed into the bark.

The man's strength bordered on the inhuman. The rage of a barbarian most likely, or perhaps magically-enhanced by spell or potion. Whatever the cause, Bjorn was in serious trouble. He couldn't reach any of his weapons. He tried to croak out a prayer, but the man's fingers tightened still further, and the divine spell was choked off. Already the man's face, inches from his own, was started to swirl in his vision from lack of oxygen.

The face; unfamiliar. Bright blue eyes, the ragged and thick blond hair and beard. The expression, contorted with anger and now triumph. The skin, Werold pale-

-and covered with tiny white scales.

"For the glory of the Ice King!" the man spat out, but it was an unnecessary exclamation for Bjorn. He knew this man was one of Acessiwal's countless progeny. Desperately, Bjorn tried to pry the man's grasp loose, but it was hopeless. The cleric's hands scrabbled frantically against the tree...

And as if guided by divine providence, his right hand closed around the hilt of the assassin's dagger.

With one graceful move, Bjorn jerked the weapon free and buried it in the man's kidney. It wasn't a mortal wound- but Bjorn knew it didn't have to be.

The man staggered back, staring at the hole punched in his armor; the brown hide staining now with red blood and another liquid- this one green. A burst of steam came from the man's opened mouth as he dropped to his knees, and then face-first into the muck.

* * *

The questions returned to Bjorn's mind even as his starving lungs greedily gasped in the air they had so recently been denied. Why would the White Wyrm send someone a thousand miles just to kill him? True, any priest of Balder would automatically be an enemy of such a dragon, but Bjorn was still just an acolyte; hardly a threat. It must be related to his mission then, but how could a novice herbologist possibly pose a danger to an ages-old power such as the Ice King, who had laid hundreds of would-be dragonslayers in their graves?

Bjorn turned to resume his journey. Perhaps an answer, or at least a clue, might be found in the Naturalist's Guild of Talantier.

He did remember however, to take the musk muddle.

* * *

 **21st day of Oforce, 5571A** **City Hall, Three Falls**

Master Nathan Olander, Lord Mayor and Chief Magistrate of the Free City of Three Falls, peered down from the bench at the two individuals who stood in the docket before him. One, a (literally) winged brute of a man, intimidating despite being only seventeen and divested of his weapons and armor; the other a slender man three years his senior, of apparently unexceptional characteristics, and yet considered dangerous enough that his spell component pouch had likewise been temporarily confiscated.

Olander shuffled through the sheets of parchment before him before frowning and turning to address his court clerk.

"No formal charges have been filed against these two men. Why then do they stand before me today?"

Oliver Athraite allowed himself an internal sigh of relief. Perhaps Nathan's reputation as a fair and just ruler might keep him and Sebastian out of prison just yet.

The clerk, obviously uncomfortable, glanced over at the tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick brown beard and hair to match, who stood nearby.

"Captain of the Guard Oleg Tonalsin, your Honor," the clerk replied. "He suggested that in light of the severity of the, umm, _incident_ of three weeks past down below Fourth Pier that this matter should be brought to your personal attention."

The magistrate glanced at Tonalsin, who gave a barely perceptible nod. Olander then turned his attention towards the other unique-looking individual in the courtroom.

Standing just shy of six feet tall, and with hair as snow-white as any drow despite being on the short side of fifty, the human wizard known only as Lissandra began to speak. Her clear voice filled the room but her unearthly, piercing green eyes sought out each man present in turn before moving on to the next one.

"This begins with the late Master Orin Mathos, your Honor. He was one of my top instructors in our guild. His specialty was transmutation- the magic of change, but he had mastered it to such a degree that he was capable of certain specific feats that are beyond even my ability. Moreover, no doubt as a result of his studies, Mathos had become convinced that the seeming forms of all objects, including living beings, are but temporarily fixed ones, and that the innate, ever-changing chaos underpinning all reality could be unearthed through arcana."

Olander frowned again. Athraite was unsure how much of that speech the judge had understood.

"And do you subscribe to this... theory, as well?" Nathan asked the Guildmistress.

Lissandra shook her head. "I do not. However, Mathos was free to research as he liked. He was an excellent teacher, even if he spent inordinate amounts of time and effort endeavoring to find a student who could even begin to duplicate his abilities."

"Ah," said Olander. "I take it he eventually found one," the magistrate said to the white-haired wizard, while keeping his gaze on Oliver Athraite.

"Yes," she replied, now also looking at Oliver with a look that, despite its outward neutrality, carried more distaste than the judge's gaze had. "Since Mr. Athraite here has an apparent and well-known aversion to regular work of any kind, Mathos agreed to teach him outside the guild's jurisdiction."

Nathan frowned again. "I make no claim to any knowledge of the ways of wizards, but would that not be illegal according to your own bylaws?"

"It was and it is. Were he still here, Master Mathos would suffer expulsion from our guild."

"Hmm, " the judge mused. "It appears that powers higher than that of this court have already rendered final judgment upon the soul of Orin Mathos, but I still do not yet understand the reason for the presence of these two," he said, again indicating Oliver and Sebastian.

"On the first day of this month," continued Lissandra, "Master Mathos and young Mr. Athraite assembled outside the latter's cottage underneath Fourth Pier. Oliver's friend Mr. Sanders here was also present as a spectator."

The Guildmistress trailed off, looking over at Captain Tonalsin, who picked up the story, occasionally glancing down at a sheet of vellum in his hand.

"From the statement Oliver Athraite has given us, along with the eyewitness accounts of those who witnessed the scene at a greater distance, it appears that Orin Mathos intended to demonstrate a new spell of his own creation at this time. The target of this spell was to be an old tree stump that sat approximately twenty-five feet from the Athraite residence. After placing an unknown object on top of the stump, Mathos stood about thirty feet back from it, while Athraite and Sanders stood just outside Athraite's front door. There were numerous other people in the vicinity, but none closer than about a hundred feet or so."

Oliver pressed his lips together tightly, grateful that no one had cast _zone of truth_ upon him during the taking of his statement. He knew that the object in question had been the alchemically preserved eye of a gibbering mouther, but even trying to explain what such a monstrous creature was would have done more harm than good, so he had kept his mouth shut.

Tonalsin paused and continued, his expression clear that he was not sure whether to believe the veracity of what he was reading.

"Despite a constant 'crackling white stream of energy' that flowed from Mathos to the stump, nothing else seemed to be happening, so Mathos called for Athraite to cast 'any' of his spells upon the stump, so that his 'transmutive energy' might be added to Orin's own. Apparently, when Athraite did this, a giant 'explosion' of some kind took place, centered not upon the stump, but upon Orin Mathos."

"What kind of explosion?" asked Olander, noting the emphasis Tonalsin put upon the word.

The captain grimaced audibly and continued.

"According to witnesses, the form of Orin Mathos began shapeshifting uncontrollably with blinding speed. He became 'a hundred different creatures all at once,' and then his form twisted, broke apart and vanished. Meanwhile, the forms of Oliver Athraite and Sebastian Sanders also were seem to shimmer and warp, although not to the severity of Master Mathos, and it lasted but a few seconds, and then they returned to their previous forms. The explosion also engulfed Mr. Athraite's house, causing the wooden logs of which it was constructed to at first sprout greenery, as if they were still alive, and then to 'age centuries in an instant,' and turn to dust, along with all objects inside."

Tonalsin stopped speaking. The magistrate tented his fingers and stared at them, obviously athought. He looked again at Sebastian Sanders, seemed about to say something, but then asked a question to Tonalsin, as if a new matter had interrupted his train of thought.

"And the stump that was the initial target of the spell? What became of it?"

A low growl sounded in the captain's throat as he glared at Oliver.

"It became a tree again, but not the oak that it had once been. That is, it seemed at first to be an oak tree, but then it uprooted itself and began to move towards the crowd that had gathered."

"A treant?" inquired Olander.

"No," piped up Oliver. "It was an ironmaw."

 _"Speak only when you are spoken to!"_ roared Captain Tonalsin, but the Lord Mayor held up a hand, indicating that he wanted to hear more.

"It's an Abyssal tree," Athraite continued, obliging him. "Its branches are flexible and prehensile, and it uses them to grab people- or anything living, really- and pull them inside its trunk, where they are drained of blood and consumed."

"Fortunately," interrupted Captain Tonalsin, obviously determined to have his say, "a city watch of my finest were close enough to hear the screams of the crowd, and they arrived in time to battle and defeat the monster."

"They didn't defeat it." Oliver felt compelled to correct him even though a part of him knew that would not help his case. "After about a minute, the lingering trace of whatever spell Mathos had tried to cast caused the ironmaw to dry rot and crumble to dust, just like my house."

"Oliver and I helped fight that thing, too," added Sebastian. "I hope you put that in your damn report!"

 _"Silence!"_ shouted Tonalsin, but again Nathan waved him off.

"You stated that that both Athraite and Sanders returned swiftly to their normal forms, but this," and here he waved a hand at the latter, "this is not normal for Sebastian Sanders."

Somewhat more tentatively, Oliver continued the tale.

"Seb here returned to his own house, saying he'd clean it up so I could live there with him, but I hadn't heard from him for two days thereafter, so I went and checked on him. I found him sprawled on his floor in agony, hardly able to move. He looked as you see him here."

Nathan Olander frowned again. "There seems to be some connection, however tenuous and obscure, between the composition of an object and the effect that Mathos' spell seems to have had upon it, but this," and he waved again at Sebastian. "Wings? This bronze tint to his skin? Slit pupils?" He turned again to Lissandra. "Can you explain this, Guildmistress?"

Lissandra shook her head and said, "No."

It was nothing short of a miracle that Oliver stopped his jaw from gaping open.

 _She's lying! There's no way she's not lying! She's the Guildmistress, for Boccob's sake! She'd know the signs of a half-dragon for sure! But why? Why isn't she telling the court? And,_ he thought as his eyes narrowed, _should we feel grateful, or worried? What's her plan?_

* * *

It was now a half-hour later. Oliver and Sebastian had been summoned back from recess. The rest of the court was already present.

Oliver and Sebastian shared a silent glance. Neither had a good feeling about this.

"Sebastian Sanders," began Chief Magistrate Olander, leaning forward in his chair. "By all accounts you were but an unfortunate bystander in this affair. While your life in Three Falls has hardly been exemplarily to date, none of that has any bearing on this matter. You are free to go."

Sanders nodded his gratitude but he did not move. His reptilian green eyes moved from Oliver back to the judge, who seemed to understand as he continued.

"Oliver Athraite," the Lord Mayor spoke, and the official gravitas in his voice was much more obvious now, "this court finds itself in a conundrum concerning you. As I stated at the outset, you have broken none of the laws our Founding Fathers have set down, and yet your astoundingly poor judgment has led in no small part to our presence here today."

He leaned back in his chair.

"While Master Orin Mathos certainly bears the lion's share of responsibility here for what has transpired, his punishment is now a moot point. However, had you seen fit to join the wizards' guild when requested to do so, Mathos' experiment would have no doubt been conducted in safer and more controlled conditions. I am sure that it has not escaped your notice that neither your father Elias nor your older brother Hermost have chosen to appear here today to offer testimony in your behalf. In addition, a number of guild wizards- specifically, former students of Orin Mathos- have threatened to...

He trailed off, looking over at Lissandra. The Guildmistress cleared her throat, keeping her expression and voice carefully neutral as she settled her gaze again on Oliver.

"Transmute you into a corpse."

"Now while no such actions will be tolerated, either by this court or by this city," Olander rumbled, glaring at Lissandra before turning back to Athraite, "such sentiments, crude and passionate they are in the heat of the moment, can be understood."

The judge abruptly stood up.

"Oliver Athraite," he pronounced, "while this court has no legal standing in which to banish you from the boundaries of Three Falls..." and here Nathan Olander spread his arms wide, taking in not only the courtroom but by extension all that had happened those three weeks ago, and indeed, perhaps all of Oliver's life.

"...I trust you can take a hint."

* * *

Sebastian and Oliver stood by themselves outside the City Hall.

"That went well," Sanders commented, giving his friend a wry smile and a punch in the shoulder that Oliver knew would shortly raise a bruise.

"Could have been worse, I suppose," Athraite mused. "I'd still like to know what Lissandra's game is, but I'm sure it's nothing either of us want to be in the middle of."

"I agree," Sebastian said, making sure his greataxe was securely fastened across his back. "So, where are we going?"

Oliver stared at him.

"Don't look even dumber than you are," Sebastian said, shaking his head. "You think that white-haired witch will leave me alone just because you're gone? And it's not like I've got any deep ties here, either."

"Seb," Oliver began, but just couldn't finish.

He didn't have to, though. Sebastian's squeeze on his shoulder, mercifully more gentle than his earlier punch, was all he needed.

"So," Sanders repeated. "Where to?"

Athraite thought. If they were to have any hope of figuring out what was happening to Seb, and how fast it would happen, they would need access to the library of a wizard's guild. And, Oliver had to admit, he wanted to learn a lot more about the secrets of specialized transmutation. Orin Mathos wasn't the only example of his kind, he knew.

Oliver turned to Seb with a smile. "Ever been to Talantier?"


	3. Welcome to Talantier

**1st day of Ransalacue, 5571A** **2 miles north of Talantier The Divided Lands**

Even at this distance, Lumen could tell something was wrong.

The moon elf squinted, looking ahead at the road which led south to Talantier. About five hundred feet ahead of her, the land sloped slightly upwards. Just short of the rise, a man pushing a cart- a travelling merchant, more than likely- had stopped and seemed to be engaged in conversation with a group of four men.

Lumen frowned. Even at this extreme distance, she could see that all four men wore leather armor of some sort and were armed. Swords hung in scabbards at their hips, and shortbows were slung over their shoulders. It looked like they had surrounded the man, who stood with one hand on his cart. Much too far away to hear what they were saying, but Illumenatta Duskwind could feel her muscles tighten up and her breath quickening. Was there going to be-

And then it happened. One of the men drew his sword and cut the merchant down with one stroke.

Lumen started to run, drawing her own shortbow as she did so. She turned her head and yelled at the numerous other people who were walking the main road.

"Bandits! A man is down! Anyone who can help-"

Lumen stopped yelling but not running. She wasn't sure if anyone else would dare to get involved. Perhaps the man leading a mule- a young human priest of a god she had never heard of whom she had met about an hour ago and exchanged some casual conversation with; Bjorn, she thought his name was. And indeed the cleric, having dropped his mule's guide rope, was already in motion, although the scale mail he wore would slow him down some.

But he wasn't the only one. Behind the moon elf, a fairly large man, possibly hunchbacked, who wore a large cloak over his back and shoulders, started running as well. His travelling companion was an unexceptional looking human who nevertheless seemed to have been having a conversation with the raven perched on his shoulder when the commotion began.

 _Mage,_ Lumen thought, and was pleased to see her suspicion confirmed when the man began incanting, and pointed at the cloaked man.

In the space of an instant, the running man doubled in size.

 _Impressive,_ Lumen thought. From her own failed studies of wizardry, she recognized the _enlarge person_ spell. As the twelve foot-tall man ran past Lumen, she impulsively reached out to grab the flapping end of his cloak, hoping to catch a quicker ride to the scene of the action. She managed to grab it, but the giant's momentum tore it out of the elf's hand the next moment.

But not before she had gotten a glimpse of folded wings.

Others were in motion as well. A short, hooded man who might or might not be an elf was running as well, drawing a type of sword Lumen had never seen before. In addition, a male high elf who was clad in garb similar to Lumen, began running all-out as well, drawing his longbow as he did. None of the other people on the road looked to be combatants of any type. They were pointing and yelling, but not making any move to enter the fray.

 _Oh well,_ Lumen thought. _Six against four. That's not bad odds._

* * *

Qidarchios Sunleaf felt like his lungs would burst.

He had blown past the merchant lying motionless on the ground. He couldn't tell if the elderly human was dead or not, but he trusted that at least one of the other responders had better healing skills than he possessed. Cresting the small hill, he could see the four men. Two were pushing the cart for all they were worth while the others stood guard, bows out. It was evident at a glance that they weren't going to get away.

Dark hoped that was a good thing. _Well, you wanted adventure_ , he thought grimly to himself. _You got it, kiddo._

He risked a glance behind him. The giant man was the closest to him, and the others not far behind. He saw the four men ahead stare in amazement at this rag-tag band of eclectic and- in one case- terrifying- individuals who were bearing down on them, but they held their ground.

"Gareth!" he heard one of them shout. "We've got problems!"

"Damn it!" yelled Gareth. "I told you not to bother with that old fool!"

"But there wasn't any patrol in sight!" the other man whined. "I thought it was safe! Who are these people?"

"Do-gooders!" snarled Gareth, who as far as Dark could see seemed to be the leader of the bunch. "Even worse! Don't just stand there- kill 'em!"

Bows twanged- not at the giant man, whom Dark had assumed would be the most obvious target, but at himself- the one person closest to the four than anyone else.

Fortunately, the day was uncommonly windy- as had the entire past week been, as well as unusually cool for the first day of High Summer's last month. Dark had cursed the wind more than once as one item or another had come loose from his pack and blown across the high grasses and crop fields he had traversed, but now he was glad to see the wind deflect the bandits' arrows off course.

It just now occurred to the young elf that if he closed to hand-to-hand range, these four man would likely cut him to pieces in short order.

Instead, he pulled up short and began to sing.

* * *

 _Either a bard or a lunatic,_ Oliver Athraite thought. _I sure hope it's the former. I suspect we're going to need all the help we can get._

"Hang on!" he yelled to Fiach, and felt the raven's claws tighten on his shoulder in response. Oliver's right arm came up, pointing at one of the brigands, even as the arcane syllables left his lips. A white streak shot from his hand and unerringly zeroed in on its target, who shrieked in pain but did not drop.

In the next instant, his friend Sebastian Sanders pulled up about ten feet away from the line of bandits, pulled out a giant greataxe, and started swinging.

* * *

Bjorn Sigmundson knelt down by the prone merchant. His practiced eye told him the man still lived, but that status was in dire jeopardy. The cleric of Balder let the healing energy flow from his hand into the man's body. The merchant groaned slightly and shifted his position, but did not regain consciousness.

That was all right, though. Bjorn knew the man would live. He'd attend further to him later, but for now it looked like the startlingly beautiful elf he'd just met- as well as these four other strange people, could use his help. Picking up his halberd, the priest was off.

* * *

Saito Takahashi grimaced as the man dodged the strike of his katana, and then cut across his own chest with his longsword.

Of course, in the great tales the older samurai would always tell back in Nippon, bandits were cowards at heart, and furthermore would always go down on the first strike, like wheat before a farmer's scythe.

Right now, Saito was feeling more like the wheat than the scythe himself.

* * *

Lumen altered her course slightly, so she'd have a clear shot at one of the brigands without the giant man getting in the way. She fired, but her arrow went wide.

Combat was a much more chaotic and confused affair than the young moon elf had imagined it would be. While the giant- Lumen heard the wizard call him "Seb"- was dealing grievous wounds with his axe, the men were standing their ground, and Seb's giant size made him an easier target.

"Stand down!" the giant winged man bellowed.

" _You_ stand down!" shouted Gareth in return.

One of the bandits went down under Sebastian's weapon, but in the next instant Gareth's longsword found its mark as well, and Sanders crumpled onto the cobblestone road, blood pooling underneath him.

* * *

 _Damn it!_ Oliver screamed to himself. He just wasn't powerful enough. _Magic missiles_ weren't going to do the job. He'd have to try something else- and trust in his new battle companions that they would be smart enough to capitalize on the opening he'd give them. The wizard incanted again, and the cobblestones beneath the remaining three bandits' feet suddenly glistened with an oily sheen, and two of the brigands abruptly went down as their feet slid out from underneath them.

Bjorn arrived at the melee just in time to witness this. His halberd was in position in an instant, pinning of the prone men down.

"Surrender!" he bellowed at the man, who merely snarled and tried to rise, but failed.

Gareth had managed to regain his footing, and was slowly backing up, looking for the best tactical position.

Dark had stopped singing and fired an arrow from his longbow, which at this close range managed to deliver a grazing wound to the bandit leader.

Twin screams came from the left flank, where the other brigand had managed to score a serious wound to the individual with the strange sword, but paid for the price as Saito found his opening and took it. His katana flashed true, and the bandit's head sailed off from his shoulders.

 _Much better_ , the samurai thought.

* * *

A combination of weapon strikes and another _magic missile_ from Oliver finished off the prone brigand, and now only Gareth remained.

"Yield!" yelled Bjorn, who seemed the most determined to take at least one of these men alive. "Why persist? You know you can't win!"

"You know nothing," Gareth replied. His voice was remarkably calm considering the circumstances, the priest thought.

A few seconds later, it was all over.

* * *

The giant man Seb was in serious condition, but Bjorn's healing soon bought him back to consciousness, if not full health. Soon, the barbarian shrank back down to his normal size as the _enlarge_ spell wore off. The samurai Saito was standing, but not much better. Bjorn gave him some healing as well as the six individuals considered their dead opponents- and each other.

A search of the former's corpses yielded some surprises. Each bore five gold coins emblazoned with the profile of a man identified only as the "Ascendor of Hellas," which meant nothing to any of them.

They also found a note on Gareth's body.

Gareth, Make haste towards Talantier. Your targets can oft be found in the Long Whiskers Inn & Tavern. Eliminate yourselves quickly—if the Neutral Forces appear, they will come after you first. My master will keep tabs on your progress. Once the killings are done, Johann of the Nightsong Guild will contact you, pay your balance and issue you further instructions. Much effort has been expended to bring you here—do not mail us. Hopefully, you will be but the first of a mighty host. ~~Hawkins

"Eliminate yourselves?" repeated Saito, shaking his head. "That makes no sense."

"Little about this does," replied Bjorn, who had restored the merchant to consciousness.

Any hope they had of gaining more pieces of the puzzle were soon dashed, though. Although exceedingly grateful, the man who called himself Henry was a mere tinsmith who did not know his attackers. His wares were common tin items. Even a _detect magic_ cast by Oliver Athraite found nothing unusual, either on Henry's wares or on the bodies.

"Why would they fight to the death for tin trinkets?" asked Sebastian.

They may not have," mused Dark. "From what I heard, Gareth, was against the others attacking and robbing Henry. This may have been an attack of opportunity, so to speak."

"Doesn't tell us what their real mission was, though," said Oliver.

It was Illumenatta who first asked the question that no one yet had gotten around to.

"Well," she said, trying to be more casual than she felt after just experienced the first battle of her life, "shall we stay together- at least until we get to Talantier? My great grandmother Adorella owns the Long Whiskers Inn."

Dark looked over at her in shock.

"She does?" he asked in wonder. "Adorella is the younger sister of the legendary sorcerer Sambel Sunleaf- my great grandfather! That would make us," the young elf's face screwed up in concentration as he calculated, "third cousins!"

Lumen smiled at him.

* * *

While the two elves chatted up family business, the others decided to salvage and sell the swords, bows and armor of their defeated enemies, as none of the six had a surplus of hard coin. Saito, who somehow seemed the most honorable and trustworthy of the group was asked and agreed to the actual task of selling the gear once they reached the city. Lumen and Sebastian each claimed a composite shortbow for their own personal use, as these weapons, built to take advantage of above-average strength, were superior to their own bows.

* * *

Henry bid the sextet a goodbye as they entered Talantier, promising to help them out in the future in any way they could. He left, pushing his cart, as the others looked around them.

Talantier was an unusual city for several years. A planned city, jointly built by humans and elves over five hundred years ago, it lay on the grasslands near Samseed Wood, but incorporated many elvish architectural features. There were no gates or even walls, and few of the city's buildings touched each other. Even though it housed over 11,000 souls, it had the feel of a large village rather than a true city. The sky was always visible overhead, and more often than not, the ground beneath one's feet was short grass, and not dirt or stone.

In addition, Talantier was known throughout the Divided Lands as an artist's haven. Pursuing the arts was considered to be the most noble profession for any native Talantier, and if one didn't have artistic talent yourself, one was expected to at least be a patron of the arts.

* * *

The six paused around the stone cylinder that served as a message board for those of Talantier's citizens who could read the notices posted upon it.

"The sewer workers have stopped working," Oliver commented, reading one notice.

"My nose already told me that," Seb replied glumly.

"They're seeking more pay from the city government."

Sebastian laughed humorlessly. "Good luck with that."

"The rat catcher's guild is hiring," Dark pointed out, eyeing another notice.

"Well," said Lumen, smiling again at her cousin, "you _did_ set out away from home for adventure, didn't you?"

"Ha, ha."

"This one," said Saito, "reports that Edrec, speaker of the Green Circle, has vowed to raze Talantier to the ground if they interfere with his plans."

"I've heard of them," Lumen said. The moon elf's mien was much more serious now. "They've vowed to rid Samseed Wood of everything that walks on two legs. They get along better with elves than with most, but still..." she trailed off, shaking her head.

They were silent for a moment.

"Well," piped up Dark, "shall we hit the Long Whiskers? I don't know about you people, but I'm starving!"

* * *

"Qidarchios! Illumenatta!" the elderly, hunched elf squealed as she approached the table where the six people were enjoying their drinks and fiercely hugging her kin. "What are you two doing here- and where are your parents?"

She looked around at the other four. "In fact, you're _all_ children! What's going on here?"

It was Bjorn Sigmundson who first grasped the truth of Adorella Duskwind's question. While the cleric hardly thought of himself as a child, he was in truth only twenty-one years old. The three elves- Saito had revealed himself to also be an elf, although a wood elf from very far away- all looked to be in their mid twenties- very young for an elf to be on their own. The mage Oliver looked about Bjorn's own age, and his companion Sebastian a few years younger than even that.

The priest of Balder looked around the smoky, crowded, noisy tavern's common room, lost in thought- until he saw something that took his breath away more than mere pipeweed smoke ever could- or even more than Acessiwal's assassin had tried.

The four bandits that Bjorn and his allies had slain less than two hours earlier were sitting at a table not forty feet from them.

* * *

The party, alerted by Bjorn, was now stealing glances at the resurrected brigands, trying not to be obvious about it.

For their part, the quartet seemed oblivious to their presence. They were quaffing ales and talking animatedly amongst themselves. They were much too far away in this noisy environment for their conversation to be overheard, but they seemed much more jovial than they had been earlier.

Lumen got up and, heading towards the privy, passed by their table. She gave the four her best smile, which rarely failed to dazzle male humans, and it didn't fail her this time. More importantly to Lumen however, was that she saw no hint of recognition in any of their eyes. Maybe they were all extraordinarily good actors- this was the city for it, after all- but Lumen just didn't think that was the case.

"They're regulars," Adorella offered after Lumen had returned, nodding towards the four men. "They come in about once a week. I don't know any of their names, but I'm pretty sure they work for the carpenter's guild."

Conversation soon turned to other matters. Adorella had put their entire meal on the house, and had also rented them out her remaining three rooms on the upper floor. Their meals soon arrived, and soon the six were concentrating solely on filling their protesting bellies-

\- until Oliver Athraite, prodded by Fiach's nibbling on his ear, looked up.

* * *

The half-elf was even younger than they were; sixteen at most and possibly even younger. Her flame-red hair was distinctive, but other than that she seemed an altogether unremarkable child.

But now the wizard realized that she was watching them all.

She had slipped into the inn right behind them, Oliver remembered, but had quickly faded into the background. The last time Athraite had noticed her, she had taken a seat at another table, but now, somehow, she had maneuvered close enough so that she could- and probably had- overheard their every word.

Adorella stood up. "This has been wonderful," she gushed, "but I've got to get back to work. I'm sure I'll see you all around."

The elderly elf began to head back towards the kitchen, and just as Oliver had decided that he'd let the rest of his companions know about their eavesdropper, the half-elf stepped forward, towards Adorella.

"May I speak with you, please?" she asked, in a voice no different than any other girl her age.

Adorella smiled at her. "Just for a moment, dearie. What can I do for you?"

The girl cleared her throat.

"My name is Caffrine Esslos. I think- I think I may be a relative of yours, as well."

* * *

The three humans and the wood elf listened with mild curiosity, but Lumen and Dark's attention was riveted on the story that the teenager unfolded. She claimed also to be a great granddaughter of Adorella, albeit from a different grandfather than Lumen's. Her mother and later her father had been slain by the Green Circle when Caffrine had been a mere toddler of three. She, her father and her younger sister Castine had been but a few miles from Talantier when they had been attacked by Edrec's forces, and Caffrine's father Hennet had ordered the precocious Caffrine to flee to Talantier with her sister in tow. They had done so, but when the patrol sent forth by their story found only Hennet's corpse, the two children were left as wards of the city. Not knowing their mother's maiden name, the authorities were unaware that the children had several relatives living here, and so the children were placed in the city orphanage. They had languished there for eight years- and then one night Castine vanished. Caffrine knew she'd never find her sister if she stayed at the orphanage, so the next night she escaped. The half-dropped several hints about skills she'd learned from her father, which put Lumen and Dark in the mind of thieves, but if Caffrine had managed to pick up and remember anything at the age of three, she'd been a precocious child indeed. The girl dropped more hints about living on the streets since then, but it was clear she was holding some details back. Nevertheless, it was an incredible tale.

Adorella nodded gravely once Caffrine had finished. "I'll be happy to get you in touch with your other relatives living here," she said, "as well as help in getting you back to Evistar. Your grandfather Asteron will be overjoyed to know you're still alive."

"I want to do that," Caffrine responded, "but not until I've found my sister."

Lumen and Dark stood up at the same time.

"Perhaps," the former spoke up. "We can help you with that."

For the first time since they had seen her, Caffrine smiled.


End file.
